


Hollywood

by GhostWriter99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awards, F/M, Fame, Famous, Funny, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hollywood, Humor, Modeling, Models, Work In Progress, celebrity, fashion - Freeform, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostWriter99/pseuds/GhostWriter99
Summary: Welcome to Hollywood, where everyone is a star. Fashion Models galore. Things are going to get crazy. Don't say I didn't warn you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work in Progress.
> 
> Updated: Feb 16th, 2017 8 AM. 
> 
> Chapter 5 is now up!

Cameras flash into Hermione's eyes, as she smiles and waves. Draco on her arm. "Lookin' beautiful babe!" and he kisses her sloppily on the mouth, as a picture snaps of them. "Draco, gross. You're messing up my lipstick. That's going to look horrible in Time Magazine." as she pushes him away and reapplies her lipstick. "Babe, come on, the cameras love us!" as he poses by himself for a shot. "Correction. The cameras love me. You're just arm candy, and an extra perk." She says smacking her lips together. "That's where you're wrong, Darling. I was on the front page of Time Magazine 3 straight years in a row. As far as I know, that one we just took was your first, and my fourth. I'm two ahead of you, and don't you plan on catching up anytime soon. " He says cockily. 

"You're such an asshole, Draco. Why did I marry you again?" She asks. Draco looks appalled. "Hermione. My face. Look at my perfect, unblemished, outstandingly high cheekboned face." He says, pointing to his face. "Oh Lord, Draco you're so full of yourself." says Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I married you because you have a pool, a mansion, a Lambourgini, and countless other materialistic reasons." She states. 

"You did not!" Draco scoffs. "Of course I did, dear, It's Hollywood, no one marries for love." Says Hermione looking over the crowd at the red carpet entrance. "Who's that?" Draco looks toward the entrance. "Oh God Damnit! It's that twit Harry Potter! That nitwit is even more full of himself than I am!"


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter walks through the entrance of the red carpet, hair blowing behind him. "Okay...cut the fans....cut the fans!" he whispers to his assistant, Miles. Miles fumbles with the fan. "I can't turn it off, sir." he says. "What do you mean you can't turn it off?" asks Harry, as he quickly smiles and poses for a picture with his hair still blowing wildly. "Pull the plug, Miles, Good Lord what do I even pay you for?" Miles runs around to pull the plug and trips over the cord instead. Unplugging it from the wall. "I've done it, sir! I've done it!" Says Miles excitedly.

 

"Great job, Miles, I knew you had it in you, remind me to give you an autographed photo of me when we get home." Says Harry "But sir...I already have 158 photos of you hanging in my quarters, all autographed." Says Miles. "Well, what about those fancy little bobbleheads we got in last year?" Asks Harry. "I have 5 of those sir. One for Christmas, New Year, My Birthday, Valentine’s Day, and a green one on St.Patricks!" says Miles. "Miles, you're so picky. Do you not like the things I give you?" Asks Harry. 

 

"Oh, yes sir. I do. I was just thinking...." stutters Miles. "Well then. That's settled. Nice chat, Miles." Says Harry. "Where are our dinner seats Miles, do you have the tickets?" Miles fumbles through his messenger bag. "Here they are, sir. Front table. Seat 2." He says, handing the Harry the seat number. "Perfect! Front row where everyone can see me! I love it!" They head to their seats.


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh God, here he comes. Don’t tell me he’s sitting at the same table as us.” Says Draco. “I’m sure he’s just lost, dear. There’s no way the organization would put him on the front row. He’s not even close to being that high class.” Says Hermione. “No, no, definitely coming over here.” Says Draco. 

Harry wanders around confusingly, “Miles, there must be some sort of mistake. I think they’ve put me at the wrong table.” He says staring at his ticket. “What do you mean, sir?” asks Miles. “Well, it seems they have seated us with the Malfoys! No. This is all wrong. Miles, who runs this shindig?” Harry says, looking around. 

“Hey, you, with that hideous sport coat.” A man in a tuxedo points at himself. “Yeah, you, come here, please.” Says Harry. The butler walks toward him. “Can I help you, Mr. Potter?” he asks. “Yes, yes you can. You shouldn’t have to, because it never should have happened, but, here we are.” Says Harry, as he hands him his ticket. “I don’t see anything wrong here, Mr. Potter. Your ticket says Front Table, Seat 2. This is it, sir.” Says the butler. 

Harry looks at him, as if thinking. “No, this won’t do. I demand another seat. I can’t sit here with those low class trash bags over there.” Says Harry. “Now…sir…” says the butler. “Who the hell are you calling a trashbag, you tight pantsed twinkle toes?” asks Draco. Hermione bursts out laughing. “Oh, Darling, that was so good.” Draco straightens up, smirking. “I know, I worked on it for a month.” 

Harry flusters. “How dare you criticize these pants! These are $1,086 Thom Browne tailored trousers! Custom made!” he yells. “I bet it drained your bank account!” says Draco. “You pompous ass!” Yells Harry. The butler intervenes. “Sir, I need you to take your seat, or I’ll be forced to call security.” Harry grumbles and sits down. 

“Oh Good Lord, who the hell is that?” asks Hermione, gazing toward the entrance. 

Draco looks. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”


	4. Chapter 4

Ron Weasley walks through the entrance combing his hair. Fireworks erupt on each side of him. He stops, shaking his hair around in slow motion, and continues down the carpet, each of his thumbs in a pocket. 

The cameras flash, and he runs his hand through his hair, posing. He continues to strut, and does the moonwalk down the rest of the red carpet. 

“Thank you, Hollywood!” He waves, smiling and laughing. “Oh, I love you guys!” He continues to wave. “Okay, okay, one more pose.” He runs his hand through his hair again, and the cameras flash. 

He starts stumbling toward his seat backwards. “Oh, an autograph? Yeah, of course, or course, I’ll give you an autograph.” He sits on his chair, signing. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He waves at the fan. Finally he swivels around in his seat. His face falls. 

“Oh, shit. No….” He starts waving down someone. 

“What’s your ticket number, Sleazley?” asks Draco. 

Ron hands him his ticket. “It’s the right seat. Son of a bitch, Darling!” Draco says. 

“I’m not the son of the bitch.” Says Hermione. 

Draco turns to her. 

“Hermione! I swear to God if the paparazzi wasn’t all over the place, I would strangle the shit out of you!” he says. 

“I would have at least a million witnesses, that would never go to court.” She replies. 

Harry leans toward Ron, “Has this just become a domestic dispute, because if it has, I can’t be here, I have a hair appointment tomorrow at 9 AM, and I can’t be late.” He says. 

“You’re fucking up my hair, Potter. Get off of me.” Says Ron pushing him away. 

Hermione straightens her dress, and Draco adjusts his tie. 

“What are you all looking at?” Asks Hermione. 

“What….the fucking…..shit?” Asks Harry, looking at the entrance. 

Everyone turns to look.


	5. Chapter 5

The ceiling opens up to the dark night sky. A loud noise thunders through the whole building, echoing off the walls. A helicopter descends into the room, a rope is unraveled, and a man starts climbing down it. He gets to the bottom, and two silk ropes cascade down the side of the copter and down to the red carpet. Two supermodel women slide down them doing tricks, and then land on each side of him. He walks, and doesn't do a single pose, just swaggers down the red carpet until he gets to the table. He kisses each girl on the mouth, and slaps them both on the butt. 

"Woo! It's good to be here! Damn! If we have a few more of these things I'll have 875 Oscars.....and....let me finish....128 Crystal Globes....that's in the Czech Republic...and 1 award from the Kara Film Festival, and no, they did not name that festival after my prostitute." He says. 

"Shut the hell up, Longbottom." Says Draco. "Yeah I really have the urge to take off one of my tailored fit Zimmerli 100 percent cashmere dress weight over-the-calf socks, and shove it in your mouth." Says Neville, looking over his sunglasses. Draco's mouth falls open. "Hermione, can you believe his fucking language!?" he asks. "He didn't even really say a curse word at all, Darling." she replies, sipping her wine. "Hermione, remember that game we play where you agree with everything I say?" he asks her. "Darling, I created that game." Draco looks confusingly at her. "I could have sworn I came up with that at my mothers." Hermione rolls her eyes. "No dear, I came up with that at your mothers at dinner that night, when I told you that the dog shit in your spaghetti was just a burnt meatball, and you agreed." Draco squints his eyes at her. "You horrible monstrosity of a woman!" he yells. 

"I guess I win this argument, children. Man I am starrrrr-ving. What's cooking in the kitchen?" he asks as he takes his seat. "Hey you...over here." he waves a waiter down. "We will all have a 12 oz steak, blue-rare, a side of mashed potatoes, and a salad please.....and the garnish! Don't forget the garnish! Sugarless tea. Sugarless tea for everyone. Know what I'm talkin' about buddy? Yeah? Don't want to mess those teeth up, No cavities at this table." He says, laughing with the waiter, who isn't actually laughing. 

"Get us one of those big ass bottles of wine too." Says Neville to the waiter, handing him a large tip.

"I shall be back shortly with your meals, Mr. Longbottom. Thank you sir." says the waiter. 

"Yeah, don't mention it." Says Neville, as the waiter walks away. "So where the fuck have you guys been? Haven't seen you around....well, at least not on the front page lately....probably because my face has taken up so much room." Says Neville smiling. "Oh, piss off Longbottom." says Draco. Neville laughs obnoxiously. "Jealous, Pretty Boy?" he asks, taking a large gulp of the last of his drink. Harry and Ron burst out laughing. "I was on the front page of Vanity Fair." Says Draco. "Congratulations, glad all the women in that magazine had enough room for one more." says Neville. "Ha. Vanity Fair, what a bitch." he starts laughing into his drink. 

Draco gives Neville a look, and scoffs. "You fucking..." starts Draco, but the waiter beside him interrupts. "Your meals gentlemen, and ladies." he says as he starts laying their plates in front of them. Neville flips Draco off across the table, his mouth open in a silent laugh. Draco narrows his eyes, unbelievingly. "Darling, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? He was such a loser in school" Neville yells at him. "Hey, Daddy's boy! I was a fucking war hero! Got RECOGNITION! Dumbledore gave me all kinds of shit after that war. Even called me up to watch his pet hamster one day, because he fucking trusted me with that things life! What the fuck did you ever do? Get a pat on the back and a lame ass tattoo for trying to kill everyone? Oh yeah, man, great stuff." Says Neville, biting into his steak. 

Hermione looks down at her steak. "Oh my God, it's still breathing." she says. as she pokes it with her fork. "Stop being a Pansy, Hermione." says Neville, looking over his fork, smiling. Hermione squints her eyes at him. "Really? You went there." Says Hermione. "Went where?.....oh....the ex fiancé thing....yeah...yeah I guess I did." Says Neville, laughing. "You are the douchiest man I've ever met. Literally, ever. In my life. Like, since I've been born." Says Hermione. "Worse than Draco Douchepants, over there?" asks Neville, nodding at Draco. "Pretty sure he has an entire trophy case of nothing but Douchebag of the Year awards accumulating since his mom decided to name him Draco Douchebag Malfoy." Says Neville. "My middle name is Lucius." says Draco. "Yeah, he's a douchebag too. Whole family of them. Except your mom, she's fine as fuck. I'd tap it and then wine and dine that woman." Says Neville. "Her legs are fucking outrageous." Says Neville. Draco leans over and makes a puking sound. 

"I agree," says Ron. "Me three!" says Harry, picking at his raw steak. "Can we PLEASE stop talking about how bangable my mother is?" Says Draco, covering his face with his hands. "I think she's a whore." says Hermione. "Hermione, I swear to fucking God....." says Draco raising his hand. Hermione just rolls her eyes at him. "I have a tazer in my purse. You can't win." she says. Draco puts his hand back down. 

"Attention ladies and gentlemen, the awards ceremony is about to start, please take your seats and have your speeches ready." says the announcer. 

"Ugh finally. I can't wait to get the hell away from all of you." says Hermione, fixing her makeup. "Oh. My. God." yells Harry. "My speech. I've forgotten to write my speech. Why didn't you remind me Miles!?" he yells shaking Miles. "Oh, sir, I'm so very sorry. How could I have forgotten!" cries Miles. "We have to come up with something witty! It has to be witty, Miles. People love witty!" exclaims Harry. "Maybe a joke or two, sir?" asks Miles, writing on a napkin. "Okay, but ONLY ONE! One that will really have them rolling!" says Harry. "And your thank you's and acknowledgements, sir?" Asks Miles. "The designers, my manager, everyone important." says Harry. Miles continues to write feverishly. "You better make it good, Miles, don't humiliate me like you did last year!" says Harry. 

"I thought the cake dancers were quite a nice touch, and....everyone got free cake, and I rather enjoyed that." replies Miles. "Don't worry sir, I've got it under control, I'll go on stage with you so you're not so nervous." he says. 

"What kind of idiot forgets to write his speech?" Asks Ron, combing his hair. "This is an award show....well, I guess there's no need to write a speech if you're not planning on winning anything." Draco laughs out loud, spitting his drink back into his glass. "10 points for Weasley!" He yells. 

The announcer continues.


	6. Chapter 6

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the 83rd annual Fashion Awards. There are some good looking people in the audience tonight." Says Seamus Finnegan. "We are going to kick this thing off with our first category. Accessories Designer of The Year. He pulls a folded parchment card from his pocket. The Nominees are....Pansy Parkinson....". A loud scream comes from the silent audience. "YES!" Yells Pansy as she echoes through the room. "Oh God. groans Hermione taking a large drink of her Chilton. "Dominique Lancaster, Marina Monroe, and Stella Zabini." he finishes. "And the winner is...." He leaves everyone in suspense. "Anyone wanna guess?" he asks laughing. The crowd yells, and groans. "Okay, okay.....Pansy Parkinson!" The audience claps and a scream rises above it all. "Ahhhh! What!? YES!" she yells as she walks through the audience. She is wearing a floor length white Elle Zeitoune Annabella Gown. Her hair is done up in a chignon, and a few stray curls fall down her cheeks.

She gets to the podium and takes her trophy. "Oh my goodness, thank you so much!" She says to the audience. "Wow, I never expected this at all." She starts to cry, and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "Okay, I totally expected it. I lied." She says giggling. "I would like to thank myself for getting me here, and of course my fellow team mates, even if they didn't do much." She says, smiling brightly. "I can't forget to thank my sweet little Fluffy Wuffy." She says, waving to a small poodle sitting in a seat of the front row. "Mommy loves you baby." She says, crying some more. The small dog yaps back at her.

Hermione looks at her and notices that as she takes her trophy, she is still wearing the engagement ring that Draco had given her. “Oh, Good Lord.” She says taking a sip of her a drink. “What a bimbo.” 

“Thank you to everyone who has bought my exclusive accessory line, Lush. I am so thankful for the revenue it has brought in, and the success it has had over the last year since we announced its arrival. Thank you again.” Says Pansy, flawlessly, showing off her trophy, and kissing the announcer on the cheek before exiting the stage. 

Several jewelry models walk down the large catwalk modeling Pansy’s jewelry on their necks, hands, and ears. Cameras flash as each model poses. Large diamonds shine on fingers, and necklaces hang below neck lines. All of the models have at least two pieces of jewelry that Pansy designed herself. She watched them proudly, still thanking people around her.


	7. Chapter 7

As Pansy returns to her seat, the announcer continues. “Our next award is British Emerging Talent, and my goodness are these runner ups a foursome! Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Cedric Diggory!” Everyone looks up at the podium extremely confused. “The winner is….CEDRIC DIGGORY!” yells the announcer. “Cedric Diggory?” Asks Ron. “Isn’t he dead?” Harry looks down at his itinerary booklet. “Oh no, he’s definitely dead, I saw him die. There must be some mistake.” He says, flipping through the booklet. 

Suddenly, a man starts walking passed them in a suit. He is pale while. There seems to be something falling off of him onto the carpet. “What’s that?” asks Ron, as he leans down and sticks some to the end of his finger. “Harry is that….” Ron starts to ask. Harry looks at Ron’s finger. “Glitter?....What the hell?” asks Harry. 

“Darling, what the hell is that? Why is it shining? I’ve got glitter on my pants!” yells Draco, to Hermione. She replies. “I have no idea, dear, but it looks terrifying. Why did they call it Cedric? Isn’t he dead?” 

Cedric gets to the podium and takes his award. “I know you’re all wondering…..why I look like this.” He chokes. “I was uh….I was….bitten….by a vampire.” Ron squints his eyes. “He doesn’t look like a vampire at all….he looks like a disco ball.” He says. 

Cedric sniffs out loud into the microphone. “This vampire…..was not like most. She was powdered, and she wasn’t good looking at all….her hair was dry and wild looking. She just came out of the dark when I stumbled through that maze….and….and bit the hell out of my neck. Her name…..was Stephanie Meyer. I’m telling you this so you will all be aware. She is dangerous, and will RUIN your life. I once was a hero, and now….I’m….some kind of …..sparkling little fairy bitch… and I can’t change that ever.” He sobs. 

“What…..the…..hell?” Asks Draco, rubbing his eyes. Neville pipes up. “I don’t know about everyone else, but this Stephanie Meyer bitch sounds serious, and if anyone needs to use my personal arsenal of assault rifles and snipers, then I’ll be glad to provide them.” Says Neville taking a large drink. “Shit sounds serious.” He finishes. 

“Thank you everyone, for your support and outpours of love. I hope you can accept me. I hate what I’ve become. I feel so cursed and ANGRY! I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS….” He starts getting out of control, and security guards grab him, hands and feet, off the stage. He takes hold of the microphone trying to yell into it while the guards carry him, and finally it slips from his grasp, and lands with a large *thud* at the foot of the steps. 

The crowd roars and boo’s him. Someone throws a heap of potatoes at him, and they land in his hair. “NO! It took one GALLON of hairspray to get my hair like that!” He cries as the crowd continues to boo and hiss him out of the building.


End file.
